


Little White Lines

by WhatBusinessDoYouHaveOnMars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Jason/Nico friendship, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatBusinessDoYouHaveOnMars/pseuds/WhatBusinessDoYouHaveOnMars
Summary: We both have craziness- or disgustingness, or self hatred, or whatever we want to call it- burning deep inside of us.  And we both have ways of dealing with it when it gets too close to the surface.  I know that when he tells me the underworld will help, he’s admitting a weakness, and therefore handing me a small piece of his trust.  But I can’t ignore the fact that being away from Nico could never help me.  And so all I can see right now are our differences.





	1. Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm. The entire story is two characters discussing self harm in a way I would describe as explicit.

NICO'S POV

“So I have this crazy theory,” I tell Will one day as I’m in the infirmary helping him treat a bullet wound. Well, I’m handing him bandages, anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He looks at me quizzically. “You gonna tell me what it is?” He says it almost as if he’s expecting something specific.

I glance around- everyone here is asleep, but still. “I’m actually thinking you’re not gonna like it much,” I hedge because I’m suddenly not sure how to actually say it.

“Who cares? Just a theory, right?”

“Um, sure.” Just a theory, but I can’t help knowing what I know. “Are you a high functioning depressed person?” I blurt out. 

Will looks taken aback. “Um….” His hands go still momentarily on the patient. “Why do you ask?”

I purse my lips. “It’s just that… when I glare at most people, they back down.”

He rolls his eyes. “Nico c’mon, we’ve been over this.”

I hold up a hand. “Hear me out, ok? Most people are freaked out by the death aura thing, right? And I reign it in most of the time because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have any friends.”

“Except me,” Will cuts in. 

I acknowledge. “But that’s the point, Will. When I turn on the death aura, you come running.”

He’s silent for a minute as he focuses back on the healing. After a while he gets the bullet out and starts to sing a hymn to accelerate the healing process. I get momentarily distracted, watching the smoking wound disappear under Will’s encouragement. Eventually he applies some sort of salve to the wound and I come in with my part- hand him the bandage- and then we’re done.

Will straightens up. “So that’s the theory?”

I shift uneasily. “There are also these, like flickers I sometimes get with your life force.”

Will’s eyes light up. “You keep tabs on me?”

I glare. “Not the point.”

Will holds my eye contact. “Right.”

And it’s not like I don’t love every second of it because I absolutely do. But the way he looks so at ease- happy, even- to meet my glare is just not natural. Eventually I sigh. “C’mon.” I lead him to a curtained off area of the infirmary and sit on the edge of an empty bed. He sits next to me.

“Now,” I say. “Tell me what’s going on.” I turn up the death aura a little bit on a hunch that it will make him more comfortable and I think it does because he actually starts talking. 

“I might know what the flickers are from,” he admits. He pushes up the left sleeve of his shirt and shows me a scar on his shoulder. It's about an inch long and thicker than it would be if he’d used a razor blade but the coloration and the fact that it’s not raised make me think it wasn’t deep.

“There are some others-” he points out a very faded clump of scars on the back of his hand- “here, and here and uh… some more on like my rib cage I guess.” He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t take off my shirt to show you.” He clears his throat. “But, uh… yeah,” he concludes. “That’s the reason.”

“Oh.” I stare at my hands. I don't know what I expected. And I definitely don't know what to say. 

I think objectively I get the idea of self harm- the feeling of being in control of your own pain or something like that- but it never seemed like something that would do me any good. I've like… I dunno. I think if I were to go by the broadest definition of self harm, I have done it, but it's never helped enough for me to keep doing it. And I've never gone so far as to cut myself, so there's a limit to how much I can understand of what Will’s going through. I mean, I have shadow travel, which drains me of my excess energy the way I’m guessing self harm does for him, but that’s just a theory. We’re quiet for so long that I almost start to wish I’d never brought it up until eventually Will breaks the silence. 

“How, um… drastic are the flickers?” He looks at me apprehensively. “Cause this is just- I dunno, it’s just this thing I do. I didn’t think it was something you’d be able to pick up, like I didn’t think…” He gestures helplessly. 

Just this thing I do. Like it’s just this fact of life that can’t be helped. I think it’s Will’s nonchalance towards the subject, rather than the idea of self harm by itself, that is making me feel like I’m not breathing. “They’re not that drastic,” I reassure him. “When someone’s life force is fading, that’s one thing. These are just… occasional periods of disinterest in being alive,” I explain. Will looks like this might be one of those periods of disinterest. 

“So you're not… mad at me?”

I don’t feel mad. I feel agitated and on the edge of something but I don’t know what. I frown. “Should I be?”

He twists a rubber band around his fingers and keeps his eyes down. “Maybe. I think I'd be mad if this was the other way around.”

I don’t exactly blame him for expecting me to be angry- I’m always angry at something. And I know he would be mad at me if this was reversed. He nearly killed me a month ago when I shadow traveled against doctor’s orders and my fingers started turning to mist again. And just like that, now I’m worried that not being mad at Will means I don’t care about him as much as I should.

I'm still not good at physical contact so instead of taking his hand or putting my arm around him or whatever it is a normal person would do in this situation, I just scoot half an inch closer so that our shoulders are touching and try to stave off the feelings of inadequacy. “I'm not mad,” I tell him. “Which doesn't mean I don't care about you.” I can’t tell if I actually mean it or if I just desperately want to mean it.

“I know.” And I can’t tell if he actually knows or if he just says he does. He leans into me a little and I can feel him shaking. I pull the shadows and their sinister energy a little closer and eventually the shaking stops. He’s going to get addicted if I’m not careful; I hope I can trust myself to be careful.

“I’ll know if it gets worse,” I remind both of us. “And I can come help.” Of this, I am completely confident. If I wasn’t before, I’m keeping insanely close tabs on him now. 

“Yeah.” Another long pause. “This really doesn’t weird you out?”

“Will.” I give him a look. “I’m crazy, too. Just different ways and different reasons.” He shrugs. “You actually hide it really well,” I note. Because everyone knows I'm crazy even if they don’t specifically know the how or the why. But I think I'm the only one who noticed that Will is crazy, too.

“That’s the thing, though. I’m generally a happy person. I like people, people like me- I just don’t like me, but that part’s optional, you know?”

“Um, not really.” It never occurred to me that I could hate myself as much as I do and be as happy as Will always is, but maybe it should. I put a pin in that for later- it’s not the point right now. “The scars you showed me are pretty old,” I note before we get too off topic. 

“And the most recent flicker was this morning, wasn’t it?”

I nod. Despite his earlier proclamation, he shrugs out of his scrubs shirt and points to a spot on his left rib cage that's littered with old scars but has this weird patch of skin on top of it all that looks almost...sun burnt? I frown.

“It's….” He sighs. “I burnt myself using Kayla’s straightening iron. It's gonna blister in a few more hours and then after I peel it, it’ll start burning and then scab over and eventually scar.”

I try to believe he knows this because he's a healer and he knows things and not because he's done it before despite all the evidence to the contrary. Although I'm 90% sure the rest of his scars are from cutting. Which begs the question of why this, and why now?

Will is waiting for me to say something. “What happens if you don't peel it?” I find myself asking stupidly.

“It heals faster and it itches, not burns. Also, less scarring.”

I nod.

“Are you gonna make me promise not to do it again?” Will asks curiously.

I shake my head. I can’t stop bouncing my leg. I’m fairly certain Will’s flickers precede the self harm, so I should be able to get to him before he does anything next time. Which maybe isn’t cool, but I don’t want him to feel trapped by a promise and I also don’t want him to keep hurting himself, so I can’t think what else to do.  
There’s more- this weird high I’m riding that seems to be attached to the idea of being needed plus the realization that I might not be the craziest person in the room for once in my life. So I’m not sure if it’s for the right or wrong reasons that I’m not asking Will to stop, but the fact remains that he’s the only one who can make the decision to stop.

“Do you want to tell me why you do it?” I finally ask. Because so far we’ve spent a long time on the what, and zero time on the why. 

He sighs. “It’s not… I’m not some emo kid with a razor blade and sad music. I just sometimes… you know, when I get overwhelmed or when things get… out of control?” I feel him shrug. “I dunno, it helps. I don’t know why, it just does.” 

I feel a little like I’m trying to control a ghost- something sad, unpredictable, and at it’s core, dangerous- that requires every ounce of my attention. Like if I lose focus for even one second, everything will fall apart. Because I know how this goes. I know that Will isn’t really in control of this. And I know that there’s a limit to how much I can help. So even though none of what he said is a reason, I sense it’s close as I’m going to get and decide that that’s enough for now. 

I grab Will’s hand. “Do you want to stop talking about this?”

He nods.

“Do you want to forget about your own existence for a little while?” I’ve done this with him before- taken him through the shadows with me as nothing more than an escape mechanism from whatever is bothering either one of us- but now it’s taken on a more sinister connotation. 

A grin spreads across his face. “How did you know?” 

I try to smile back around the feeling that the floor has dropped out from underneath me. I shrug. “I just know."


	2. Your Hands Are Shaking Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning again for self harm (perhaps a bit more graphic in this chapter than last).

WILL'S POV

“Hey, dude,” I say as I sit down next to Nico at the Zeus table one morning. 

Nico tries not to smile. “Hi, Will,” he says around a mouthful of buttered toast that has no nutritional value whatsoever. I decide not to comment. 

“I got you something,” I grin widely. 

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows. I feel giddy, perhaps because the eight hours I just went without seeing him are up.

“Yeah,” I say excitedly. “I was thinking about-” I pause because I see Nico’s eyes flicker up to Jason, who’s coming over to join us. Nico waves at him, telling him to hurry up. Jason sits down and Nico starts talking as if he's bringing Jason into a conversation we've already been having. 

“Tell Will that toast is enough for breakfast, will you?”

Jason laughs. “I mean, not if it's white bread and not if it's smothered in butter.”

I give Nico my best victory smirk, although I owe him one. I didn't want to give Nico the thing I got for him in front of Jason. I don’t know how he knew, but let’s be honest, that’s sort of the dream. I nudge his foot under the table to express my appreciation. 

Nico nudges back and makes a face at Jason, who is also eating white bread toast smothered in butter. “I learned from the master,” he says sourly.

Jealousy flares for literally no reason and dies down again so quickly that it’s hard to pinpoint what the trigger was. A look? Nico calling Jason ‘the master’? Jason expressing concern for Nico? There’s no way of knowing. I guess I’m just the jealous type, especially when it comes to Jason. Something about his shared past with Nico makes me… irritated? I don’t know if that’s the right word. Regardless, this isn't the first time this has happened to me though I think I've gotten better at ignoring it with Nico than I ever was with… well, whatever. I may not like it but sometimes Nico chooses Jason over me, and I just have to get over it. 

If I were a normal, healthy person I’d probably be able to say the same. Sometimes I choose Cecil over Nico, but I don’t actually think that’s true. I’ve been taking Cecil for granted a lot lately, and as disgusting as it makes me, I’ve started to think of him as my backup plan. Because when it comes down to it, though I can tell Cecil anything, Nico is the one I can’t live without. And I guess what makes me so touchy sometimes is that I suspect it’s not the same for Nico, if only because he seems like the kind of person who can live through anything. Which by definition includes losing me. 

I exit my inner monologue when I realize that Piper’s here and has just asked me a question, but I’ve been so spaced out that I can’t answer. 

“Solace is being introspective,” Jason informs her. Piper raises her eyebrows at me and I shrug in response. He’s not wrong. 

“Will’s always introspective,” Nico comments. I tense a little, wondering if he’s saying that just to say it or if he’s saying that because it’s actually a problem.

Piper nods. “There’s more in there than meets the eye.”

Jason smirks. “There has to be based on how little meets the eye.” Nico kicks him which looks like it actually hurts, although Jason tries not to show it.

They keep going back and forth like that. This happens to me sometimes- me not talking, and then people around me filling in what they want me to be saying or thinking for me. It used to bother me a lot back home- I remember my teachers doing it a lot, and sometimes my friends’ parents, but I don’t mind so much anymore. It lets me stay part of things when I don’t have the wherewithal to participate myself, like now. 

An indiscernible amount of time later, I wonder if I’m starting to slip out of awareness and when I realize I can’t focus my eyes correctly, I know that I am. Engage, I tell myself over and over again. Exist. But I can’t seem to. I think about just going back to the Apollo table since I'm not doing anyone any good here, but even that small act would require a level of existence that I can't summon right now. 

And so I wait. Eventually Nico touches my arm and I feel this rush of dark energy that draws me back to reality and, once I process how dark it is, snaps me into focus. Nico needs to leave but doesn’t know how. And now that I know this I shake off my social paralysis easily and stand up.

“We should leave now if we’re gonna get a chance to look at Austin’s thing before archery,” I announced to the table at large, completely interrupting whatever was going on around me. I grab Nico’s hand to pull him up with me. 

“Right!” Nico extracts himself from the table, gripping my hand with such urgency that my arm hair shrivels up and dies right before my eyes. I think I’m the only one who notices.

Of course the Austin excuse isn’t my best work, so naturally Piper has to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively at us and Jason has to cough into his orange juice to cover up a laugh. Nico glares but I decide to steer into the skid since them thinking we’re sneaking off to his cabin to fool around is probably better than whatever’s actually about to happen. “Don’t wait up,” I quip. 

I figured we were just going to go to his cabin or something but we walk right by it and head into the forest, aiming for a clearing I know isn’t too far away. There’s a sense of calm before the storm and then a few things seem to happen simultaneously. One- Nico’s hand gets so cold in mine that I drop it in shock. Two- he falls to the floor and presses his palms forcefully into the ground. And three- every living thing within a 20 meter radius (except the two of us) dies. 

Nico is the first to speak. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” I shrug and sit down next to him. “Um, you are good, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I put my hand on his knee to make sure and I still feel some darkness I didn’t expect. What just happened strikes me as the opposite of Nico fading into the shadows, so I’m not as upset or concerned as I might be. Regardless, my hand stays firmly planted on his knee because all things being equal, whatever sinister underworld energy he channels keeps my own disgustingness at bay.

Nico looks at my hand and raises an eyebrow like he knows exactly what I’m doing. Our conversation from the other day comes rushing back to me and I suddenly feel self conscious. But I don’t move my hand. “Care to elaborate?” I ask to distract him.

He moves my hand from his knee but keeps holding onto it, in a gesture that makes me feel so unconditionally accepted by him that I have to fight an insane giggle that bubbles up in my throat. “On this?” Nico stares blankly at a tree that looks like it’s been struck by lightning. “I guess not.”

“Do you know why it happened?”

Nico makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know! Stress? PTSD? Something weird happening with my powers?”

“Maybe you haven’t been using them enough.” 

“Take that up with my doctor,” Nico grumbles. 

“Hey, I haven’t censored your powers in weeks.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” I feel a little guilty because no matter how you slice it- stress or him bottling up his powers- this could easily be my fault. But Nico just shrugs. “Let’s go with PTSD then. That’s what everyone else blames for their crazy; I might as well get some milage out of it, too.”

The logic checks out, though it doesn’t escape my notice that I can’t blame PTSD for my crazy. And I do not know what the fuck is wrong with me that I always come back to that. I swear I woke up this morning hardly aware of my existence and now I feel so trapped in my own headspace that I can barely acknowledge Nico’s. 

Nico lets go of my hand and starts fidgeting with his skull ring. “Didn’t you say you got me something?”

I brighten. I’d completely forgotten. I unclip my camp necklace and pull it out from under the collar of my T-shirt. The worn leather string has five beads on it and two small stones- one that’s spherical and pearly white and one that’s a crystal. I slide them off the string and pour them into Nico’s hands. He holds up the crystal. “For Iris messaging? Cool!”

I smile. “It gets better.” I nod at the stone in his other hand. “That lights up, whenever, wherever. Even in the underworld.”

His eyes are big and round. “Where did you get it?”

“My dad.” I shrug. “I mean, before…” I trail off. 

“How does it work?”

“It turns on whenever you want- you just have to think it.”

As soon as I say it, the stone starts glowing and Nico’s face lights up. “This is the coolest thing ever.” He puts it next to the crystal to make a rainbow.

“You still need a Drachma, but it saves you the hassle of finding some way to make a rainbow in the underworld.”

Nico slides the two stones onto his own camp necklace so they rest next to the bead from last summer- the one with the Argo II on it. Then he wraps it around his left wrist a few times and ties it back together with a complicated one hand and chin maneuver. And then he sighs which is as good as telling me he has bad news and doesn’t know how to break it to me- but then he does.

“It’s actually perfect timing.” His eyes are on the ground.

My chest deflates. “You have to help your dad with something?” I’m ok with it, I swear I that am. Especially now, when I am still near him, I can believe myself strong enough to be alone. 

“Yeah. He didn’t say how long it's gonna take.” The problem is that when he leaves I’m going to forget I ever thought that. The bigger problem is that it’s probably not true to begin with.

“Are you gonna be ok?” I ask. 

Nico nods. “I think it might actually help,” he says distantly, gesturing around to the blackened circle we’re still sitting in. I know he’s telling me this as a way to be close to me. We both have craziness- or disgustingness, or self hatred, or whatever we want to call it- burning deep inside of us. And we both have ways of dealing with it when it gets too close to the surface. I know that when he tells me the underworld will help, he’s admitting a weakness, and therefore handing me a small piece of his trust. But I can’t ignore the fact that being away from Nico could never help me. And so all I can see right now are our differences.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Nico returns my question.

I roll my eyes. “Yes.” And as long as I’m still near him, it doesn’t feel like a lie. 

I’m crazy too, I remember Nico telling me the other day. And it’s not that I don’t believe him because the evidence is right in front of me. It’s just… different ways and different reasons, like he said. Like he’s telling me now. I never expected to feel this… frustration with him for not matching my brand of crazy with his own, but it’s there and I suddenly find myself missing Castor of all people. 

“Do you actually want to go to archery today?” I don’t care about archery in the slightest but I need to think about something else before I get sucked back into the past. 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Not really, but you’re gonna have to so I might as well. How much time to do we have?”

“Fifteen.”

“Cool.” 

Things feel weird between us and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s possible that everything is fine between us and I just feel weird, but if there’s a way to differentiate, I haven’t figured it out. 

“Has this happened before?” I indicate the patch of dead grass and trees.

“Um, yeah. Like when I first came to camp it would happen every now and then, or like if I had a nightmare I would do it without noticing.”

“Recently though?”

He makes a vaguely disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “You could say that.”

“Maybe we should talk to Chiron.”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“But can you control it?”

Nico narrows his eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Um. I guess it seems like it’s not outside the realm of possibility that you might hurt someone?” 

He rubs his eyes tiredly. “I’ve got it under control.” I hold up my hands in surrender. But perhaps I’ve pissed him off because he asks me the last thing on Earth I want to be asked. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” I ask flatly. “Have it under control?”

He inclines his head in assent. 

“Have what under control?”

“Your thing.”

“Well, yeah,” I say shortly. I told him I’m not a kid in some uncontrollable fit of rage. I can always wait till I’m alone. I know not to do it anywhere too obvious. And it’s not like I walk away from anything thinking now how on Earth did that happen? “I have it under control,” I reaffirm. I do. I know exactly what I’m doing. But I am blindsided by my inability to express this effectively to Nico. 

I know that Nico knows self hatred as I’m sure he knows anxiety and social paralysis and self hatred and million other things, but Castor knew cutting. Castor knew me. And that’s what’s on my mind long after the rest of my cabin falls asleep and I find myself alone in the bathroom. It’s what makes me lock the door and look for something sharp. And it’s what, at times like this, is the only thing that counts. 

It’s randomly easier to do it in certain places and more difficult in others. I want to cut my wrists, perhaps with the key to the medicine cabinet. Not for any symbolic reason- the key just has the right kind of sharpness to it. A bread knife would also work, or maybe a pocket knife. Just as long as the blade is serrated, and the medicine cabinet key has the same idea. I hold it against my wrists sometimes but I don’t cut because I know enough not to. 

I mean I know enough not to cut my wrists. That’s what I meant when I told Nico I could control it. I can want to cut my wrists and not act on it even though it would be so easy to tear through that skin. It would just feel right, you know? But I don’t. I burn this place on my left ribcage, my shoulder, my thigh. None of that feels exactly right but it’s the best I can do with what I’m given to work with. 

I keep coming back to the question of control as I plug in Kayla’s straightening iron and wait for it to heat up. I told Nico I can control it, and it certainly feels that way. After all, I feel in control when I see the little white lines form on my skin, when I hear the crackle of the iron touching my flesh. But I don’t pay attention to the patterns of when and how this keeps happening, so I don’t have a clear picture of how often I do it, or how often I psych myself up and then decide not to. I do know that both scenarios have happened on multiple occasions. I know this because I’m running out of surface area. 

I mentally sigh and go over my own specifications. I want a scar that will last more than a few weeks, that I can cover up with a T shirt or tank top if it comes down to it, but something I’ll know is there. I start to think about my collar bone, but decide to leave that blank. The big picture of what I care about gets a little fuzzy at a time like this (as does my own sense of permanence)- regardless, I never know when I’ll have to take off my shirt. And I have this vague idea that a scar on my shoulder is easier to lie about than a scar on my collar bone.  


I don't know if I'm expecting Nico to stop me. I know that if he knew I was doing this he would be here, which must mean he has no idea. Unless whatever feedback he thinks he gets happens during or after. And so I feel more ambivalent than usual as I dwell on Nico and whether he knows and whether he's coming and whether I'll ever get to do this again now that he knows it happens at all. Eventually I just do it though because I know how much worse I'll feel if I stop now than if I follow through. 

Like an electric shock, the buzz of the iron meeting my skin raises a white mark that makes me feel alive and leaves me wanting more. There’s another hiss, another line, and finally a loud crackle that breaks through the haze in my mind and lets me know it’s time to stop. And Nico is still not here. 

I test out a few words as I try to decide how I feel about that before landing, however oddly, on empowered.


	3. Ground State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self harm.

NICO's POV

The marks are small, but I'm surprised at how instantaneously they appear. One minute I'm watching Will stand with a straightening iron in his hand, hovering above his shoulder. The next, I'm watching him burn himself. 

If it weren't for the marks that form on his skin I would have thought the iron was off- that's how completely he does not react. He stops after the second burn and frowns, inspecting his work. I will my dream forward to get a better look. They’re white raised little patches that stand out against the tan skin on his shoulder, only a few inches away from the older scars. Will presses the iron into his shoulder one more time and I hear the sound it makes- the kind of hiss you get when a drop of water falls onto a hot stove- and watch a longer, thicker line appear on top of an old scar. 

Will’s expression- blank only a second ago- changes minutely. His eyes are bright- more focused- as he unplugs the iron, and there’s something else I can’t quite place. It takes me a second to realize he’s biting his lip against a smile. I pull myself out of the dream.

I don’t stop to question what I’m doing or what Will might think if he were to find out, I just throw on a hoodie and make a bee-line for Jason’s cabin. 

He answers on the third knock and ushers me inside. 

“Nightmare?”

I make a face. “Sort of, yeah.” By some definitions, anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I grin. Jason’s come a long way. A month ago he would have demanded I tell him everything but now he gets that there’s only so far you should push somebody before you let them be. 

I shake my head. “I sort of came here to not talk about it.” If I’d wanted to talk about it, I guess I would have gone straight to Will.

Jason shrugs. “Alright. You staying over?”

“If it doesn’t bother you.” I say it like its a joke because I know he’ll tell me he doesn’t mind. But I always say it anyway, just in case. 

“Shut up, Nico.” He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation and flops back down on his bed. Well, I say bed, but Jason actually sleeps on this bedroll thing on the marble floor of his cabin that I know from personal experience is not comfortable. There’s another one for when Thalia stays here which hasn’t happened in years, so it’s basically mine.

I set up shop an appropriate distance from Jason, maybe a little on the conservative side. But as soon as I lie down I find myself wishing that I didn’t spend years building up shields against casual physical contact with friends. I eye the spot on the floor next to Jason but moving now would look weird, so I stay put. 

I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it in the first place. I can count on one hand the number of times Jason and I have hugged. It doesn’t mean our friendship is any less strong, it’s just the way things are between us. And anyway, if platonic physical contact was what I wanted, I should know by now to go to Piper, who is always happy to oblige and never makes me feel weird about it, or Hazel, who would probably still be awake anyway given the time difference. 

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah.”

Jason doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then comes up with this gem. “Have you ever thought about going to a normal high school?”

“Fuck.” I reply. “No, never.” I guess the question caught me off guard. 

“Not do you wish you did,” Jason elaborates. “Just have you thought about it?”

“Oh. Um, yeah I guess I have, then.” I frown. “But like only to stop and thank the gods that I don’t.”

“You don’t even know what high school is like.”

I don’t, but I probably have a better idea than he does. “I did go to mortal school before coming to camp the first time,” I remind him.

“Middle school in 20th century Italy doesn’t count.”

“Oh.” I guess I’ve never told Jason about my time at Westover Hall. “I went to a boarding school in Maine, I mean. For a semester, before I got here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I don't know whether I liked it or not, it’s just not… ” I wave my hand dismissively. “Relevant to my life, you know?” 

“I guess.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“I take it you’ve thought about it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure it’s not too late if you really want to go,” I say. “Chiron could probably get you in somewhere.” 

“Probably,” he agrees. 

“But?”

Jason turns on his side to face me. “Ok, so like- and this is mostly coming from Percy so take it with a grain of salt I guess- but people here go around acting like camp is too sheltered from the rest of the world, or something. Or maybe sheltered isn’t the right word, exactly, but that it doesn’t prepare you for a normal life when you leave.”

A normal life seems so stupid that I almost laugh. But I guess he has a point.

“And I don’t know if I care about that, exactly, but maybe I should,” he continues.

“You don’t have to care.” Gods know I don’t.

“I just don’t get why Percy tries so hard to make it work.” 

I snort. “Hero complex.” 

“That’s its own issue though, it doesn’t have to define everything he does, right?” 

Privately I disagree but I’m not going to say it out loud. “Maybe, but with Percy it’s…” I have to think for a second. “Ok, so like we can’t really get where Percy’s coming from because he has a stable home life. He obviously didn’t always have one growing up, but for the past few years he’s always had people to go back to. And we don’t have that.”

“No I know,” Jason says. “That’s what I’m wondering. Like, should I be trying to change that?”

I frown. “Something happen with Piper?”

“Uh. I honestly don't know. Ask me later.”

“Well I'm leaving for the underworld tomorrow but I can ask when I get back.”

“Oh. How long are you gonna be down there?”

“Not sure yet.”

“How'd Will take it?”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Nothing. That's just one of the things I came here to not talk about.” Not that Will hurting himself was a direct response to me leaving. We never got to the bottom of why he does it besides a vague admission that it happens when he’s overwhelmed. 

“Oh.” Jason seems to think that Will and I fought but I don’t bother to correct him. “Okay then, what are you going to do down there?”

“There are some restless spirits my dad wants me to talk to.”

Jason tilts his head. “Can’t he do that kind of thing himself?” Then he realizes who he’s talking about and claps a hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

I wave him off. “You’re fine.” My dad knows not to kill Jason. Zeus would have his head for it, and Thalia, Percy, Hazel and I would back him up, so there would really be no point. Us big three kids gotta stick together, you know? “Anyway, he can but he has bigger things to worry about most of the time.”

Jason nods. “So what do you do with the restless spirits?”

“This actually isn’t the first time it’s happened. You know how in Asphodel you lose all your memories, but you keep them in Elysium and the fields of punishment?”

“Yeah.”

“So people try to escape the fields of punishment all the time for obvious reasons, but they can’t because the security measures are insane. And nobody bothers to escape from Asphodel because they don’t remember anything else- it’s like they don’t even know they exist, right?” 

Jason nods and I continue. “What’s interesting is that if you’ve had a hard life and you make it to Elysium, you’re not necessarily happy there. And that’s the kind of restless spirit that can cause an actual problem.Most of the time, those people go for rebirth because there’s no point to remembering their life when it sucked anyway and they could have a chance for a better one. But sometimes they feel like they have something to hold on to, you know?”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. You’d never think about it but once you do, it sort of makes sense.”

Jason agrees that it does. “So they’re not happy and they… what? Try to start a rebellion?”

I shrug. “It depends. Sometimes they have a loved one in Asphodel or the fields of punishment and they try to go visit. Or worse, they try to break someone out. Which is against the rules of course, but the systems we have in place to prevent it are sort of shaky cause you wouldn’t think that people would want to escape Elysium.”

“Yeah but even Elysium is still a downgrade from being alive. Don't people try to break out of the underworld all the time?”

I shake my head. “No I know, of course it's a downgrade, and there’s insane security preventing souls from leaving the underworld all together but there's nothing in place for someone in Elysium who wants to take a stroll through Asphodel.”

“Oh. So what do you do?”

“Try to convince them to go for rebirth, if they’re only on their first or second life.”

“That sounds really interesting.” Jason has a faraway look in his eyes.

“It is.” Something occurs to me. “You know, maybe you don’t actually want to go to high school, you just want to be doing something new.”

“You might be onto something. Honestly, I kind of miss being on the Argo II.”

“You want to hear something crazy?” He nods. “I miss it too, sometimes. And traveling with Reyna and everything.”

“It’s weird to be so stagnant and not working towards anything anymore.”

“You said it, man.”

Jason chuckles. “So you’re leaving in the morning?”

“Yeah. Do me a favor and wake me up when you do.”

“Gotcha.”

“You know, it would be cool if you came with me at some point.”

Jason’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“You would really want to?”

“Obviously.”

I grin. “Okay! I’ll ask my dad when I get down there.”

“Oh.” Jason fidgets. 

I sigh. “I don’t know why everyone’s so scared of him- lately, he’s been one of the more reasonable Olympians.”

“Never said I was scared.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you need to go to sleep?”

“Yeah I guess.” He sounds tired. “Are you gonna be able to sleep?”

“Probably.” 

“Alright. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

“Night, Nico.”

“Night.”

***

I don’t sleep. I get up to pee about five different times and toss and turn for what feels like hours. I’m actually impressed that Jason sleeps through it because I’m not being quiet.  
It’s probably around five when I give up and walk to Will’s cabin. I want to say goodbye before I leave and it's close enough to sunrise that there's an outside chance he’ll be awake.  
I’m not thinking about my dream from earlier in the night per se but it’s been gnawing at the back of my mind for hours so I know it's there. And I don’t plan on bringing it up with Will but I’m still buzzing with nervous energy by the time I get there.

He's not awake when I walk in so I stand in front of his bunk for a few minutes trying to decide what do before he opens his eyes.

He follows me outside.

“Hey.” 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.”

Will smirks. “I'm not complaining.”

“I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

“Oh really?” He gives me a blinding smile. 

I smile back, unsure what to say. “Yep.” I'm honestly trash at flirting. Luckily, that doesn't bother Will. He rolls his eyes and kisses me. I grip his shoulders and kiss him back.

Not that I have anything to compare him to, but Will really is an excellent kisser. It still blows my mind that we’re together because I would rate myself as mediocre at best. And that's just kissing. As a human being in general, I’m your average mediocre guy. (It's very convenient that both Will and I find self doubt attractive.) 

After a minute or two, I hear a throat clear behind me and I push myself away from Will, expecting the worst. Luckily it's just Piper. 

Will glares at her. “Can we help you?”

“I just thought you might like to know that people are gonna be out here soon. So you should probably wrap this up.”

“It's like five in the morning!” Will protests. “Breakfast isn't till 8.”

“It's Tuesday,” Piper says brightly. “We’re doing sunrise yoga again.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The shit we deem necessary here will never cease to amaze me.

“Nico!” Piper is torn between scandalized and amused. It dawns on me that she's never heard me curse before, but whatever.

Will chuckles. “Where are we meeting?”

“Right outside Aphrodite. Five minutes.”

Though I technically have no reason to know that Will participates in sunrise yoga, I raise my eyebrows at him in a “consider me floored” gesture, anyway. He ignores me, waiting until Piper’s gone to speak.

“You have to leave now?”

I nod. “I’ll IM you tonight.”

He grins. “Ok.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him one more time. “See you.”

“Yeah.”

I walk into the shadow his cabin casts in the sunrise, feeling like I'm leaving my life behind.

***

It's hard to explain shadow travel to someone who’s never done it before, but it’s dark, it’s cold, it’s fast, and it’s a crazy endorphin rush. I'm wired on no sleep and a mixed bag of emotions about Will so I spend a few extra minutes in the darkness until the shaking stops and I’m tired enough that I can ignore the emptiness.

I appear on the banks of the River Styx fully intending to lie down and pass out right there, but Hazel is waiting to greet me. I must be more tired than I realize because she grabs my arm to hold me upright and conjures a cup of coffee out of thin air. She presses it firmly into my hand. “You’re gonna need this.”

I drain the cup quickly and it vanishes. “You're getting good,” I say, referring to her mist manipulation skills. 

“I know.” She grins.

I give her a big hug now that the coffee has kicked in and I've fully registered her presence. “I didn't know you were gonna be here!”

“I wanted to see you- it’s been awhile.” She appraises me. “You look different.”

I roll my eyes. “So do you. We haven't seen each other in two months.”

“Good point. You need to visit more often.”

Like she can’t come to Camp Half-Blood just as easily as I could visit Camp Jupiter. “It’s not like you ever came to see me,” I remind her. 

“I was busy!”

“And I wasn’t?” I mean, I wasn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I'm a centurion,” she huffs. “I can't just up and leave whenever I feel like it. I had to get special permission just to come here for a day. What were you so busy doing?”

I bite my lip in an effort to not smile. A month ago I wouldn't have even noticed she'd unwittingly set me up for this joke but right now I can't imagine a force strong enough to stop me from saying what I say next. “Will Solace.”

Her eyes get wide and she makes a choking sound, which I guess means she’s educated herself on modern vernacular. I bark out a laugh. 

“As in...” I’ve rendered her speechless. Even the murkiness of the underworld can't hide the deep blush that reaches all the way to her ears and down her neck. She’s so stunned she can’t even fan herself dramatically. 

“Not technically doing him,” I clarify. “But we have been dating for like six weeks.”

That seems to revive her. “Oh thank the gods.” 

I must look put out because she puts a hand on my arm reassuringly. “Sorry, it’s not that- I’m fine with it, obviously, I just- don’t know how to give the gay sex talk.”

This is objectively hilarious because it’s not like she knows how to give the straight sex talk, either. But whatever. “Technically that’s Dad’s job,” I point out.

“Gods, can you imagine?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Rather not what?” Well, fuck. I’d know that voice anywhere.

Hazel, with remarkable composure: “You don’t want to know.”

Hades, airily: “As you wish.” But if you read between the lines, what he’s actually saying is 'I’m omniscient. I know more about your life than you do, from the past that you’ve forgotten about to the future you’ll probably never have to your innermost thoughts to the dreams you have no conscious control over. But sure, we can pretend I didn’t hear that little conversation. Whatever helps you sleep at night.' 

As I say, fuck me.

Hazel plows through the loaded silence. “So what are we here for?”

Hades grins, which is always weird to see. “A few old friends have been causing some trouble.”

“Old friends?” I frown. I don’t have friends, old or otherwise. Unless Jason’s died in the last 30 minutes, they’re not mine.

“From the battle of the labyrinth,” he clarifies as he starts walking to the palace. Hazel and I follow. “Hazel’s never met them, but you’ll remember them, Nico. You fought with a few of them.”

I cringe. I’m one hundred percent not going to remember any of them and I don’t want to have to explain that to Hazel. I try not to make eye contact with anyone.

When we make it through the gates to Erebos, Persephone greets us with a forced smile. “My stepchildren,” she says sourly.

“My lady.” Hazel and I kneel. 

Hades grumbles under his breath. “For her, you kneel. For me? The secret conversations.”

We make it through the required small talk and Hazel and I begrudgingly split a pomegranate. Then Hades hands us each a stack of pamphlets to distribute throughout Elysium and sends us on our way. I breath a sigh of relief once we're alone again. 

“Rebirth and You: Another life as mediocre as your first,” Hazel reads from the pamphlet. She raises an eyebrow. “Hades needs a PR guy.”

I unfold one and look inside to see a bunch of slogans:

'Forget your old friends and loved ones!'

'Rated 83% easier than taking a dip in the Lethe!'

'You made it to Elysium once, but can you do it again? Rebirth could be the most exciting gamble of your life.'

“Yikes.” On impulse, I grab both our stacks and chuck them in the Styx as we pass it on our way to Asphodel. “These are triggering me,” I comment, only half joking.

Hazel doesn’t say anything and I mentally kick myself. Being reminded of Bianca is obviously hard for me, but it's not fun for Hazel, either, and I tend to forget that.

Luckily, a distraction comes in the form of a spirit who unmistakable does not belong in Asphodel. He’s wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt and has four beads around his neck, but I don’t recognize him. He looks about my age.

“Nico di Angelo?” He whispers.

I tense. I didn’t know he would know my name. He looks at me imploringly, but I’m not sure what he wants.

“Hi, um…” I trail off.

He holds out his hand, in a plaintive but resigned appeal for human contact. “It’s Castor.”

I try to smile. “Hi, Castor.” I bring my hand up to meet his, and his fingers turn to mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel great about this chapter, but I don't know why so I'm just gonna post anyway lol. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Also for some reason I can't figure out how to italicize on this website so if someone could shed some light on that, it would be great! (I'm copy pasting from a google doc where I have italicized words and then it all shows up in normal text and then I try to use "command I" but it doesn't do anything.)


	4. All That I Am

Piper gives me weird looks all throughout yoga. I don’t know what she thinks she’s picking up on, but I can only hope it’s lovesick over Nico shit and not I burn myself for reasons undetermined shit. I decide to believe it’s the former because of the whole love goddess thing and leave it at that. 

For the record, I don’t even like yoga. I only came last week for the first time because Piper specifically invited me and I have a never say no policy when it comes to people asking me to do things. I wasn’t planning on coming back for seconds, but today sort of fell into my lap and it’s not like I have anything better to do. 

I’m dragging through the 90 minute session, though- I don’t think I fell asleep till about 2 AM and then Nico came by just before sunrise. But it’s not like I would be able to go back to sleep at this point and it feels better to be doing something rather than lying in bed waiting for breakfast to start, even if that something is breathing in and out slowly while Piper directs all 5 of the yoga participants into various positions. 

I’m wearing a tank top and no one notices my burns, probably because they haven’t blistered yet, and also because a demigod camp is the last place anyone notices or cares about the minor stuff like that. I’m not exactly asking for someone to notice but I’ll admit to getting a little high off of flaunting my “secret” which takes the edge off of the fact that I don’t know when I’m going to see Nico again. The thought triggers a short self-critique that I can only describe as practiced after so many years. I hardly register the guilt, the acknowledgement of my own neediness, and the resulting self hatred so that by the time the feelings of inadequacy wash over me, I have plenty of time to experience them in full. 

Piper leads us through some different plank positions while dictating our inhales and exhales but she’s not using charmspeak because- thankfully- my breaths are still my own. I run my fingers over my shoulder absentmindedly during the hip stretch, testing the burns there. They might be ready to peel soon, depending on how completely I want them to blister. 

For what feels like the millionth time since he first brought it up, I wonder whether Nico registers this as a life force flicker. And then I wonder why, if he does pick this up, he’s not here. I can think of four possibilities: he’s too busy, he’s respecting my privacy, he doesn’t think it’s serious enough to merit acknowledgement, or (worst case) he doesn’t care. I’m sure there are other explanations but it’s not like I can bounce ideas off of anyone regarding this particular problem. So naturally I latch onto the worst of the options and cycle through another round of the guilt/ neediness/ self-hatred/ inadequacy until yoga ends. 

This leaves me tense and grouchy which is the opposite of what you’re supposed to be after yoga, so I leave during the three minute meditation at the end without saying anything and head back to my cabin to change into a camp T-shirt, brush my teeth, and round everyone up for breakfast. 

Austin catches my eye and frowns as I aggressively shove my yoga mat under my bunk without rolling it up properly. “Fucking Piper,” I grumble.

He nods sagely, like that explains everything, which of course it doesn’t because nothing is Piper’s fault. But her charmspeak makes her a great person to blame anytime I do something that I don’t feel like explaining and yoga falls squarely into that category. 

“Oh you’re not working today.” Austin nods at the camp T-shirt I just changed into which is conspicuously not my scrubs. “Tell Nico to tag along for activities.”

I snort in spite of myself.

Austin groans. “Not like that. Just the normal camp activities that we’re all participating in.” Activities is the codeword Austin and I use to talk about sex when we’re around the younger campers. “But seriously, tell him to hang with us today, I like having him around.”

“Okay first of all, don’t act like you ever have to worry about me and Nico participating in public anything. We have self control unlike certain couples I could mention. Second of all, I know you’re just doing this because you want him to side with us in Capture the Flag next week and third of all… Nico left for the underworld this morning. So he can’t.” My voice sounds weak and needy, even to my own ears. 

“Damn. He’s not gonna be back for capture the flag, is he?” I laugh. This is why I love Austin, and for that matter all of my self-absorbed siblings. Because he either doesn’t notice or blatantly ignores the fact that Nico being gone today is clearly killing me to an inappropriate degree. His indifference makes it easier for me to ignore as well. 

“I’ll ask him tonight when he IM’s. When’s the game?”

“Monday.”

Given that it’s Tuesday morning, Austin is displaying an impressive level of thinking ahead for an Apollo kid. “Alright, I’ll ask him. You’re laying the groundwork a little early though, aren’t you?”  
“I am, and this is a perfect segue into my next thing, which is that I cleared your schedule for that day. We have a lot to prove.”

I ignore him in favor of knocking on the bathroom door, making sure we have everyone rounded up for breakfast. I head outside, Austin and Kayla at my heals, the rest of the campers falling in line behind us. Kayla’s either been listening in or she and Austin are already in cahoots on this. “Need we remind you that you haven’t played since last summer.”

“Which coincidentally is the last time we were on the winning team,” Austin says pointedly.

“And,” Kayla chimes in, “This time it’s our turn to lead the blue team, so it’s higher stakes.”

“Can I ask who you put on infirmary duty to replace me for the game?” It’s clear that both of them (my second and third in command, age-wise) don’t plan on working that day, either.

They exchange a glance. “Well…” Austin elbows Kayla. She elbows back and then speaks up.

“We were actually thinking that this could be a great opportunity for, um… Joshua.”

All three of us glance guiltily towards the back of the line, but it doesn’t seem like he heard us. “I am not dignifying that with a response,” I hiss. I don’t want to be that guy because Joshua is a good healer, but he’s twelve and he’s only been here for two months. He’s also, for lack of a better word, a bit passive and and since I’m a bit of a control freak never in a million years would I sign over infirmary duties to him. 

“We’ll talk more later.” Austin claps me on the shoulder and we sit down for breakfast. “Who wants to pick the first topic for craziest?” He addresses the whole table. Craziest is this game we play that’s basically a family friendly replacement for never have I ever. Not that NHIE has to be XXX rated but Austin always tries to steer things in that direction and then of course it’s my job to answer the gross questions. 

Kayla starts us off. “Craziest place you ever spent a night.”

Joshua perks up. “Wal-mart parking lot.”

Kayla: “Men’s bathroom at Port Authority. You don’t want to know.”

Charlie sighs tragically. “Hecate cabin. I’m sheltered.”

Austin grins wickedly. “Aphrodite cabin. And I’m not.”

I roll my eyes. There is no earthly possibility that he hooked up with an Aphrodite kid without telling me about it, but half of this game is lying anyway, so whatever. “Middle of the Atlantic.” Which is actually true, for the record.

Kat looks impressed, but delivers what they know to be the winning line. “Griffin’s nest.”

Charlie’s eyes bug. “Active or abandoned?”

They smirk. “Active until I got there.”

“What the hell, dude!” Charlie crosses her arms. “I need a quest.”

“Me freaking too,” says Troy. “And Kat wins this round because the craziest place I’ve spent the night is a camping trip to the Adirondacks when I was eight.”

Charlie pats him on the back sympathetically. We all turn to Kat, since it’s their turn to either pick the next category or pick the next game. 

We go through a few more rounds- craziest lie we’ve ever told (Joshua comes out of left field with convincing his fourth grade class that he was a spy for the CIA); craziest place we’ve ever urinated (Kayla wins the pity vote with “on stage in front of my entire elementary school during a kindergarten production of Wizard of Oz”); and craziest person we’ve ever made out with (I think all of us are lying at this point but I win because I’m the most convincing with my Justin Bieber story that I’ve been perfecting for years and is only new to Joshua and Troy). 

Eventually it dawns on me that it’s been so long since I had off from the infirmary that I don’t remember what our normal schedule is like and- gods forbid- I might be expected to teach first aide today. Recognizing that I’m falling into old habits, I lock eyes with Cecil across the crowded dining pavilion and beckon him over. He inclines his head, telling me to come to him. Sigh.

Breakfast is almost over so I shovel a few more bites into my mouth, sacrifice the rest to the gods, and slide into the bench next to Cecil for a brief strategy meeting. “Can we combine cabins today?”

“Yes, please.” Cecil looks like he has just found new life, which makes me regret my decision a tiny bit. If the Hermes cabin is acting so crazy that Cecil is complaining, I don’t want to be anywhere near it. On the other hand, I need a distraction and I’m not going to be picky. 

“So you guys have archery first and we have arts and crafts,” Cecil rattles off. “Which do you want to start with?” I shrug so he continues. “Alright, so let’s just do archery first before anyone’s awake enough to know it’s happening to them.”

“Good idea.” One of the many things I love about Cecil is that when I start to shut down, he doesn’t ask questions or make me feel weird, he just lets me be and sort of fills in the gaps for me. Which becomes increasingly necessary as the day drags on. I was doing an okay job of faking normalcy with my cabin at breakfast, but I can’t carry it over to the day’s activities. 

Cecil helps by assigning me manageable tasks that I don’t have to say anything for, like helping campers get the right grip on their bows, and handing out materials for arts and crafts. I’m sure I look dazed and disoriented because a few different people ask me if I’m ok. I don’t know what I am, but if I were alone I’d be cutting, so I’m grateful that Cecil is picking up my slack.   
Given that I’m already halfway out the door from reality, this is not a good day to be reminded of Castor. But for some reason his twin brother, Pollux, is leading arts and crafts. And it is fucking disgusting how I can act like the victim in the Castor dying situation when ultimately Castor was the one that died and Pollux was the one that lost a twin. I’m just a kid who had a crush on someone who died two years ago. But I'm nowhere near over it. 

Maybe I would have been fine if Nico were here today. Or maybe if the memory of the iron scarring my shoulder wasn't so fresh in my mind. If I was a normal person, and could talk to anyone about this- seeing Pollux might not hurt so much. But the truth is that when he comes up to me to ask what I'm working on, my world goes dark and my mind goes bright. Bright like getting dizzy staring down the sheer face of a cliff. Bright like when you run for too long in the blazing sun. So bright that you can’t see anything at all and the blindness makes you woozy.


End file.
